Sleep, Don't Weep
by PlonkerOnDaLoose
Summary: Sleep, don't weep, my sweet love. Pyro watches Kitty sleep and John wishes he were stronger. Angsty Kyro trilogy. COMPLETE!
1. Part One

**Disclaimer: **I don't own X-Men or the lyrics in italics (the amazing Damien Rice's _Sleep, Don't Weep) _

Yeah, I don't know what's happening to me. I have caught Kyroitis. It seems that everything I write is now a Kyro. ARGH! Personally, I blame aiRo25. Although I am loving the pairing, and will always hold a place for them in my heart, I hope I grow out of it. Just enough to be able to finish a Ryro one-shot I have cooking, at least. It's just a phase – ha! Get it? A _phase_. Because Kitty phases. I crack myself up sometimes.

Again, unBeta'd. Don't know why, just laziness, I guess. If anyone sees any mistakes or has any suggestions, I'd be happy to hear them.

* * *

**Sleep, Don't Weep**

PART ONE

.

_Sleep, don't weep, my sweet love  
Your face is all wet and your day was rough_

Every night she cries herself to sleep. He knows this because, every night, he watches her do it. He sits there, watching her cry for the dead, and for the living, and he wonders who deserves it more. If he were dead, he wouldn't have to sit here and watch her cry.

But if he were dead, would she cry for him?

And if she were dead, would he cry for her?

Did he even know how? To cry? Has he forgotten? Is it possible to forget how to cry, forget how to laugh and smile. To feel. Sometimes he thinks life would be less painful for all involved if no one could feel. If we all just existed. Just _were_. Because if we couldn't feel, the sours would be less sour, the bitters would be less bitter and the acids would not burn so deep, festering, inside, forever. Like a disease. A cancer, slowly, devouring until there is nothing but emptiness and regret and rusty dreams.

But, if we could not feel, the sweets would be less sweet.

And when she did stop crying, and when she smiled in her sleep, he would feel nothing.

And was feeling only inside? Would her skin be less soft? Her eyes less bright? Would the sunshine in her smile fade away like an old photograph?

He wishes he could walk across the floor, ten steps maybe, leave the shadows and kiss away the pain. Be the hero she saw inside. The king. The man, just the man. Sleep, don't weep, my sweet love. I'm here.

But he can't. He made his bed; now he has to lie in it, just as she lies on hers, a kitten curled up into a ball, crying, crying, crying. For such a little person, she has so many tears.

It's night now, it's all black and endless, but when morning comes, she will get up and wash away those tears with cold water. He's never been jealous of water before. She will sit on the edge of her bed and greet the new day. A new dawn, a new day, a new death. A new death, but she never wears black. And in a way, that's worse. She's keeping it all inside, all those tears mean nothing, she's keeping it inside, just like him. And he doesn't ever ever want her to be like him. She's too strong for that.

Kitty Pryde is the strongest person John knows. People think he's the tough one, but there's no such thing as tough. Only trained and untrained. Pyro's trained, Christ, God only knows how trained he is, but he's not strong. He's not strong because he can't walk those ten steps across the floor, touch her, hold her, kiss away the tears, whisper in her ear, sleep, don't weep my sweet love. I'm here.

So, when morning comes, he will leave, back to those he calls friends and that which they call home. But he much prefers Kitty's windowsill.

Into the dawn light, John breathes, "I'm here. I'm here," he says.

"I know."

_Those times that I was broke, and you stood strong  
I think I found a place where I …_

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If you liked this, please review (obviously) and come visit mine and aiRo25' forum **_Save The Kyro_** as Kyros, sadly, are dying breed and we must save them! Must! Or else Kitty's doomed to Bobby and Pyro to a succession of Mary-Sue succubuses. And you really don't want that resting your conscious now, do you? Huh? Huh? Huh?

Cheers, Plonksie


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer: **I don't own X-Men or the lyrics in italics (the amazing Damien Rice's _Sleep, Don't Weep) _

Reviews, thank you to everyone who reviewed:

_**aiRo25**_ – quit it. You're making me blush

_**LoveAroundEmbers**_ – consider the Kyro deficiency over: get your ass to the Save The Kyro forum, on which you will find a link to a community full of the best ever Kyros

**_it'scurtainsforyou_** – thank you =]

_**LuthanxIsxSmexy**_ – so do I, my friend, so do. Ditto what I said to _LoveAroundEmbers_; check out the Save The Kyro forum for more Kyro goodness, because Pyro is WAY smexier than Luthan, whoever the Hell he is

_**Forever Young Mezmeric**_ – great they are. Like a really great great, like the Frosties great: they're _grrrrrrrrrrrrrr_eat!

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**Sleep, Don't Weep**

PART TWO

.

_Sleep, don't weep, my sweet love  
Your face, it's all wet, 'cause our days were rough_

She standing, arms folded, so small but somehow solid. A barrier to his escape, even though the window's on the other side of the room, the side he stands on.

"What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Sprite. Long time no see. Miss me?"

Kitty sneers. It doesn't fit her face right. She looks older, harder. "It's Shadowcat now."

And Pyro does what he does best, beside smart-ass comebacks and destruction. He shrugs and he pretends this doesn't affect him and he says, "Whatever."

"You know they'll kill you if they find you here," she whispers. Her tone is a mess. Hope and fear, pain and desire, disdain and bone-marrow meaning.

He smiles that knowing smile of his. "No. They won't."

"Oh yeah? And why won't they? Last time I spoke to Bobby he was dying for another chance to beat your sorry ass."

He just smiles. They've played this game before. She's trying to provoke him. Her words are the knife digging into the crack into the lobster's shell, teasing out the soft gooey stuff inside. But John isn't a lobster and there's no soft gooey stuff inside of Pyro. And, besides, this lobster is still alive.

The lobster snaps out with his terrible claws.

He crosses those ten steps until he's behind her, right behind her. "Because you won't let them."

Kitty freezes. "And what makes you think that?"

There's a name missing off the end of that question.

She still hasn't called him Pyro.

But she hasn't called him John, either.

Without a name, he's Mr. Nobody. Without a name, he doesn't exist.

And Mr. Nobody speaks. "Because you love me."

It's not a statement, it's question. Because you love me, don't you, is what he wants to say. He's just no strong enough. Nothing can train you to hear no.

Kitty sneers to hide the tears and with a big red pen, she corrects the tense. "Love_d_."

The knife wins after all.

And John shrugs and pretends it doesn't affect him and says, "Whatever," smirking.

"So. Are you going to stand there all night?" she demands. She's in control now; she makes the demands.

He takes a step to the left. Eyebrows raised. "Better?"

Kitty throws back her head and laughs. "Same old Johnny. Too fucking chicken to face reality."

"Same old Kitten. Too fucking naïve to face reality."

"You want reality? Here. Take it." She throws something it him. It flashes silver in the moonlight. A knife? A ring? "Take it. I don't want it anymore." Her words whip through his defences and draw blood. "It's just a piece of junk, right?"

The lighter clatters to the floor.

Slowly, his eyes slither from the dented piece of metal that had been as much a part of him as a finger, a liver, an eye, until he gave it her. An eye for an eye. A heart for a heart – and up to her eyes. Brown and black and ice and cold.

Since when had his Kitten been ice and cold? Ice was Bobby's job. Cold was Pyro's. Dramatic irony. John could appreciate that, the dramatic irony. Pyro didn't appreciate anything because nothing appreciated him.

Nothing except Kitty.

(_It's just a piece of junk, right?_ he had said, always belittling his attachment.

Kitty raised an eyebrow. _If it's just a piece why should I take it? _She thrust it back at him. A little coy, a little reluctant. She thrust it back at him so he could take her hand and close her fingers around it and kiss her knuckles and say,

_Because it's a piece of junk I want you to have._)

"You don't mean that."

"Mean it? Mean it?" she hisses. "Of course I mean it. Just like you did when you said you loved me, right here, in this room, when you gave him that pathetic piece of junk. 'I love you,' you said it! And I – fucking Hell – I believed you. And I took it. I took your junk, took your words and I put them in my heart. And you know what you did, not ten minutes later?"

He's heard this story before. He knows how it ends.

The princess cries herself to the sleep every night while the prince watches from her windowsill.

"You left me. Again."

"I didn't leave you," he says quietly.

"Oh yeah? Does abandon work for you then Mr. Literary Genius? How about desert? Or forsake?"

"I told you I was going. I asked you to come with me. You said no."

"Did you honestly expect me to say anything different?"

"No."

"Then why did you ask?" she cries. She sinks down onto the bed. Suddenly she's not so strong anymore. Slowly, she raises her head and they're eye to eye. Blue-eye boy meets a brown-eyed girl. You can sew up it, but you'll still see the tear. "Why?"

John picks up the lighter, shoving it deep into a dark pocket. "I hoped you'd say yes." And he turns to go, we must away 'ere break of day, to seek the pale enchanted gold. But not all that glitters is gold, and what would he know about gold away? He's a red dust boy. Maybe he's looking at the gold right now. Maybe he's looking at that pale enchanted gold right now.

_Those times that I was broke, and you stood strong  
I hope I find a place where I feel I will …_

* * *

Again, the Save The Kyro forum is a must for all Kyro lovers, new and old. Hope you liked this and the finally part will be up as soon as I write it, which, I hope, will be soon, though I am in the middle of a chapter for my Harry Potter fic, so – Okay, whatever, I'm rambling. Reviews, as always, are LOVE and let's all share the LOVE, especially the KYRO LOVE

(at the forum)

Cheers, Plonksie


	3. Part Three

**Sleep, Don't Weep**

PART THREE

.

_Sleep, don't weep, my sweet love  
My face it's all wet 'cause my day was rough_

"John–– Stay."

Her words are a dagger, stabbing down inside him, into his heart, and all that red stuff comes rushing out. It's all over his hands and the floor and there is so much of it and he's getting weak.

John is frightened.

Pyro ties the tourniquet. Right over left and under and pull. It stops the bleeding, but it still hurts. It still hurts.

Light filters in the through the gaps in the curtains, colourless and new. Elysium is waiting.

"Stay."

Laughter bubbles up from somewhere. "Here?" Pyro taunts. He doesn't even look at her. The floor is much more interesting. The red stuff glows in the white light. "With the X-Men? Why the fuck would I want to do that?"

He turns on her.

She's clutches her hands tight, her fingers worrying. She's bleeding too. Kitty sucks in a section of her lip and releases it.

"Because I'm here too."

"Yeah. And?"

A tiny frown creases her forehead. "And?"

Pyro pulls tight on the tourniquet, damming the flow, damning him. He takes a step towards the window. Backwards, sneering. Elysium is calling.

"And," he confirms. "And what, Kitten?"

She stares at him. In disbelief. "And … and … Stay. Please."

The conversation continues, unlimited by petty words. The mouth is a puppet of the brain, but the eyes belong to the heart, to the soul. The heart can say _please_, can _plead_, without blushing. It's already red.

_Will you not stay? _she asks.

He takes another step. 

_Make me _

"Fine," she gives up. "Fine, go. Again. I knew you would."

John shakes his head but his feet keep moving. Is it survival instinct? The fact that he knows something of him will be gone, forever, should he stay tonight.

Pyro is frightened now. He pulls tighter. Another step. Dead man walking.

_Make me, Kitty, make me stay_

Kitty shakes her head, laughing to herself, the laugh of the stupid girl who gave the bad boy a second chance and watch him leave it behind on the bedside table with the condom wrappers and the cigarette stubs and her heart. She grips her sides, shaking and laughing, and laughing and shaking.

"Just go already!" she yells, jack-knifing up, suddenly so very fierce. "_Just go. _Or stay. Or whatever … Just don't stand there! Don't look at me like that. Don't. Because – because – because …"

_ For the love of Christ, Kitty, make me stay_

John pulls her heart out of his jacket pocket. Maybe he left it behind. Maybe he went back for it, some night, when she wasn't looking. When she was asleep.

"Because?" There is no emotion in his voice. All his emotion is spent. It's all over the floor, red, and fading in the golden light. Light that pours in the window, not light that pours out. Elysium is fading. "Because?"

Kitty shrugs. "Because. Because, because, because, because. Stupid fucking word. There's always a reason with because. Don't eat too many candy _because_ your teeth will rot. Don't leave the lights on in the bathroom _because_ it wastes electricity. Don't throw your heart away_ because _you're gonna get it thrown right back at you, twice as hard, and you're going to miss it, and it's going to fall and hit the ground and break into a million pieces. God never said _because_. He just said,_ Thou shalt not kill_. Take it or leave it, guys. Don't ask questions, I'm God."

She crosses the room, throws back the curtains and it's all yellow. Kitty stands on tiptoe and reaches for the window. She bangs it shut. Shockwaves ripple through John. He's trapped.

But he was trapped anyway.

She turns away from the window, leaning against it, bracing herself. For what? For him? Chin up, arms folded, knees bent, she's waiting for him to come throw her aside. "Well, maybe I want to be God, okay? Maybe, just for one day, I want to say something I don't need a reason for. Maybe I want to eat candy and leave the bathroom light on and be in love with whoever I want! And if you don't like it, well that's too bad. Sucks to be you. And maybe, maybe I just want to say _stay_. Maybe there's no _because_, I don't know. What does it matter? I could give you a hundred reasons and you still wouldn't." Her chin sinks down. Now that the words are gone there's nothing left to hold it up.

The sun kisses her head, framing her in light. She looks like a burning angel, all red at the edges. She even has a halo. She has a halo. Elysium is here.

John catches her chin with a finger, tipping it up. "Give me a reason," he says. Asks. Pleads. "Give me one reason."

"Because I lied," Kitty whispers.

"I do it all the time," he says.

A watery smile fills her face. "When?"

John pauses to think. "When I was five, I lied to my mother. Told her the cat ate it."

"Ate what?"

"I can't remember," he confesses, an apologetic grin. "Something important, I think. I was five. It was a long time ago."

"I lied two minutes ago," Kitty murmurs into his shoulders. He's holding her. When did that happened? How could he not have noticed? Something that feels like this … And that's when John realises this is why you don't notice breathing or your cells dividing or blinking or your heart beating. As a child he always wondered, this thing, it keeps me alive, how come I don't notice it? How come, mummy?

But you do notice it. When something goes wrong, you notice it. When a piece is stolen from the puzzle the picture doesn't look right. But when it's slotted back into place …

"I lied," Kitty whispers, "when I said I loved you."

"Why?" John cries.

After she kisses him, she says, "Because you belong here. With me."

_Those times that I was broke, and you stood strong  
I know I've found a place where I belong_


End file.
